Ben pulled out his notebook. "The file says Evan went hiking alone the day he disappeared. Was that typical for him?"
"Very typical. Evan loved being out in the wilderness by himself. He'd go every chance he got—weekends, days off from work. Sometimes he'd be gone from sunrise to sunset." Dorothy wrapped her hands around her mug. "I used to worry, especially when he was younger. But he knew what he was doing. He'd grown up out there, knew the land."
"The report mentions caves and rock formations. Did he have favorite places he'd visit?"
"Oh yes. Evan was fascinated by the old sites—cliff dwellings, petroglyphs, that kind of thing. Not as a tourist, you understand. He respected the sacred places, knew better than to disturb anything. But he loved exploring." Dorothy's voice softened with memory. "He'd come home and tell me about the formations he'd seen, the way light would hit certain rocks at sunset. He had notebooks full of sketches and observations."
"Do you still have those notebooks?"
Dorothy shook her head. "His sister has them. Charlene lives in Albuquerque now—she's a teacher. She took most of Evan's things after... after we realized he wasn't coming back."
The front door opened without warning, and a younger woman entered, carrying grocery bags. She stopped short when she saw Ben, her eyes moving from the uniform to her mother's face.
"It's all right, Charlene," Dorothy said. "This is Officer Tsosie. He's asking about Evan."
Ben felt a flicker of surprise. The file had listed Charlene as living in Albuquerque—he'd assumed he'd need to contact her separately, that Kari would handle that interview when she had time. But here she was, and it would be foolish not to ask his questions while he had the chance.
Charlene set the bags on the counter. She was perhaps forty now, with her brother's same bone structure and the same wariness in her eyes that Ben had seen in countless family members of the missing over the years—the look of someone who'd learned that hope could be a dangerous thing.
"After fifteen years?" Charlene's voice was neutral, giving nothing away.
"I know it's been a long time," Ben said. "But I wanted to understand more about what Evan was doing in the weeks before he disappeared. Sometimes small details can matter."
Charlene pulled out a chair and sat, her posture defensive. "What kind of details?"
"Your mother mentioned that Evan liked exploring caves and rock formations. Do you remember if he was particularly interested in any specific area that spring?"
Charlene exchanged a glance with Dorothy. "He'd been talking about some canyons near where his truck was found. Said he'd heard there were some interesting formations up there—natural arches, maybe some petroglyphs. He wanted to document them, add them to his notebooks."
"Did he mention going with anyone?"
"No. Evan always went alone. He said it was how he thought best, being out there by himself." Charlene's voice held an edge now. "The investigators asked all this back then. We told them everything we knew. It didn't help find him."
"I understand your frustration," Ben said carefully. "And I know this brings up painful memories. But sometimes reviewing old cases with fresh eyes can reveal things that were missed before."
"What was missed?" Charlene leaned forward, her nostrils flaring. "My brother went hiking, like he'd done a hundred times before. He didn't come back. The search teams found nothing. And then, three weeks later, the land where he disappeared gets sold for an insane amount of money to some company nobody's ever heard of, and suddenly the police don't want to talk to us anymore."
Ben's attention sharpened. "You noticed the land sale too?"
"Of course we noticed. Three million dollars for worthless land? Right where Evan vanished?" Charlene's laugh was bitter. "We asked about it. Got told it was just a business transaction, nothing suspicious. But it felt wrong then, and it still feels wrong now."
Dorothy put a hand on her daughter's arm. "Charlene."
"What? It's true, Mom. Something happened out there, something that made that land valuable enough to pay millions for. And I think whatever it was, it has something to do with why Evan never came home."
Ben made notes, careful to keep his expression neutral. "Do you remember the name of the buyer?"
Charlene rubbed her eyes. "I looked them up years ago. Couldn't find much—just a registered LLC with an address in Phoenix. No website, no phone number, nothing."
"Devco Holdings," Dorothy said quietly.
Ben wrote it down, though he'd already noted the name from the file. He wanted them to see that he was taking every bit of information seriously.
"Did Evan ever mention meeting anyone out on his hikes?" he asked. "Other hikers, maybe people surveying or working in the area?"
Both women shook their heads. "He would have mentioned it," Dorothy said. "Evan didn't see many people out where he went—that was part of the appeal for him. The solitude."
Ben closed his notebook. "I appreciate your time, and I'm sorry for reopening old wounds. If you think of anything else, please call me." He handed Dorothy his card.
